Hunt and Chase

Reaping Day

Song: Reaping Day from The Hunger Games score. (Please listen as you read, it makes things more atmospheric.)

"The rules of the Hunger Games are simple. In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. Over a period of several weeks, the competitors must fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins."

It all happened two years after the war had ended. Everyone found it suitable to let Panem heal from war, before destroying it again. The recovery started with District Twelve. There was no helping the damage done to the surface of District Thirteen after the Dark Days.

Then it was the recovery of the Capitol, at last. In no way was it restored to its former glory, as it had been under the gracious and grand rule of President Snow. It had become something like the area around a Justice Building in a middle-class district. The homes were torn down and made like those in a Victors Village. The Presidential Mansion stayed the same though as if to remind us of our past ruler's untimely demise and defeat. Now, this new Panem was governed by a woman whom they call President Paylor, I never paid much attention to politics, it never mattered in my old life, I couldn't live that life anymore.

Then, came Reaping Day.

It was a warm sunny day in the middle of planting season to those in the poor districts but, here it was known as springtime. It was sprung upon us, a televised announcement came through our televisions or holograph systems. There on the screen was Caesar Flickerman, we weren't sure if he had survived the war or not, we were all happy to see him back, his hair now a vibrant red and eyebrows to match, wearing an immaculate suit of a black color that shimmered in the spotlight put upon his face. This wasn't the Caesar Flickerman we knew though. His face, normally bright and enthusiastic, was now hidden by a saddened facade.

"Residents of Panem, welcome," he addressed us. I sat on the floor in front of the television, staring intently at the man's face. "It's certainly been a while, my friends. Now, citizens of the Capitol, this is a special announcement for you. All children between the ages of twelve and eighteen are to present themselves in their best dress on the steps of the Presidential Mansion in two days time," the man paused as if being choked up by tears. "Happy Hunger Games," he said with a sad smile, then the broadcast ended.

The next two days were havoc among citizens of the Capitol. None were happy with the news of receiving a taste of their own medicine. There were riots and burnings, though, none of this was made public, then it was quickly put to an end by Justice Forces. Then it was bustling parents and quiet, stoic children going from shop to shop trying to make themselves look the best they could for the Reaping. I don't see why any of the Capitol's former glamour mattered anymore, we weren't the Capitol we used to be, why pretend like we are?

My mother had died in the attack on our defense systems in District Two during the war. My father, an alcoholic and surprisingly actor, was always gone or too drunk off of fame or booze to give a damn about me was gone too. Where? I never knew all I knew is that it was just me. So, I dressed my best. A pair of black, heeled riding boots, one of my favorite old hobbies snatched out from under me. A pair of black formal pants, made of soft velvet material. A white button-up shirt with long frilling sleeves, tucked into a black leather belt with an ornate golden buckle. My mess of black locks were swept casually to the side. I took nothing with me from my new home, I needed no crest or symbol of hope to hide behind like the fools of the Rebellion and Katniss Everdeen. Then, I made my way to the Presidential Mansion, fully ready to die.

There we were, children, innocent children who had done nothing wrong or harmful to Panem other than be children born and raised in the Capitol. The square in front of the Presidential Mansion had no glamour to it, it was just somewhere they could put us until twenty-four of us were chosen to die. All around me were sobbing mothers, held back from their children by Justice Forces and their stoic faced husbands. Children gathered around as well, little girls with blonde curls and teary eyes and tall, strong and brave faced boys of all ages stood around me. No one stood out to me, they all were either dressed in what they had salvaged from the war or in the glamour of Capitol's past. We had all been tracked, they took blood from our arms and printed our fingers on small slips of paper.